


Gone To The Dogs

by NovaStars42



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Baking, Cookies, Dog Walking, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, HappyStuck, Italian Food, Jane is like the first date master, dirk is a big dork, dog trainer dirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaStars42/pseuds/NovaStars42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane is having trouble with her cousin's unruly dog when a stranger who just so happens to be a dog trainer steps in to help her. He doesn't ask for much in return, just a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone To The Dogs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyeh413peasants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyeh413peasants/gifts).



> This is my part of the fic swap I have going with Cronusisnotonfire on tumblr!  
> Please enjoy!

Jane didn’t know a damn thing about dogs. That didn’t fair well for her, seeing as every time her cousin Jade needed a dog sitter, she called up Jane and begged. Becquerel was a nice dog, really he was, but the white German Shepard shed everywhere and he never listened to anything Jane said.

He needed to be walked too, and that’s how Jane ended up being towed like a trailer through the dog park.

“Bec, no! Bec! Sit! Stay! Bec!” Jane shouted, digging her heals into the ground. The dog only pulled harder.

“Bad dog!” Jane huffed, exasperated. Her arms were burning.

One raised crack in the sidewalk and she was down, pulled over like a tree after a date with a chainsaw. Jane face planted into the dirt, the leash flying out of her hand. She heard the thumping of the dog’s paws as he ran off.

If Jade hadn’t already had a face full of grass, she would have face palmed.

Groaning, she put her hands over her head and wished she could just sink into the ground. Jade would kill her if Bec got lost, but somehow Jane couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment.

Maybe, if Jane was lucky, Bec would find somebody else to bother and find his way home without her. Maybe, if she was really lucky, he would find somebody to bother and not come home at all.

She wasn’t lucky though. A shadow loomed over her, blocking out the sun.

“Is this dog yours?” A man’s voice asked from above her.

“No,” Jane deadpanned, “at least, I wish he wasn’t.”

“Ah. Would you maybe like some help?”

When Jane looked up, she was surprised how youthful the face looking back at her was. He was her age, but taller than her, and lanky in the arms. His blonde hair was spiked and fanned out behind him with what had to be more than one bottle of hair gel. His expression was stoic and hard, with an oval shaped face and a square jaw. His look was topped off with a pair of strange triangle shaped sunglasses perched on his nose. His eyewear choice was certainly interesting, but Jane didn’t plan on asking about them.

He held out his hand to help her up.

Jane flushed and took it. Was it hot or was it just her?

“So he got away from you, huh?” He chatted, “first time owner?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, “well, technically he’s my cousin’s dog.”

“I sort of figured,” he snorted, shoving his free hand in his pocket. “Names Strider. Dirk Strider.”

Jane smiled. “Like Bond, James Bond?” She giggled. “Crocker. Jane Crocker.”

Dirk cracked a smile himself.

“Sure. Anyway, here’s your dog back,” he said, handing Jane back the electric green leash.

“Thanks,” Jane’s grin turned sheepishly. As soon as she took the nylon lead back from him though, Bec shot off to the right, forcing Jane to dig her heels back into the grass.

“Not again!” She whined, “Bad dog! Bad dog!”

Dirk practically grimaced. “Would you like some help?”

“If you think you can handle him,” Jane grunted, yanking the leash.

Dirk wrapped his hand around the lead and pulled, forcing the dog back to heal before he snapped, “Bec, no,” in a forceful, stern tone.

Becquerel instantly stopped his attempted escape and turned to look at Dirk, confused. The white dog panted, looking between Dirk, Jane, the wide open field he so wanted to run in, and then back to Dirk.

“Sit,” Dirk commanded and the dog complied. Dirk pulled a small biscuit out of his pocket and rewarded the dog.

Jane’s jaw dropped.

Dirk presented her with the leash.

“How, how did you do that?” Jane asked exasperated.

“You have to talk to him like you mean it,” Dirk instructed, “you can’t let him drag you. It’s dangerous. Tell him to heal and make him walk at your hip.”

“Er, alright,” Jane replied skeptically. “And just um, where did you learn that?”

Dirk shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking about his reply before he actually spoke. “I train dogs for a living.”

“Oh. Oh, I see,” Jane nodded. “Er, where is your dog then?”

“That idiot,” Dirk rolled his eyes and jutted his thumb over his shoulder, “he’s over there. The Doberman.”

Jane followed his finger behind him. Sure enough, there was a black and tan Doberman, sitting patiently next to a bench where his master had commanded he stay.

“And he just.. Stays there? Sitting nicely?” Jane questioned. Sure, it was a bit hard to convince Jane of anything, but this ball was out of the park. There was no way this guy was that good with dogs, he’d have to practically be magic.

“Sure,” Dirk agreed, and then whistled, loud and brisk. The dog stood up and padded over, planting his behind on the grass even with Dirk’s feet. “This is Hal.”

Jane guessed seeing must be believing. This dog was so nicely behaved too.

“Anyway, I appreciate you helping me, is there a way I can repay you?”

Jane watched Dirk’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He shifted shifted back to his left and drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I was hoping maybe you could, or would, go on a date with me tonight?”

Jane’s cheeks flushed. “O-oh, yes, er, yes, I would. I would like to. To go on a date. With you,” she stammered.

“Great. Meet me at Antonio’s at seven?”

* * *

Jane arrived at Antonio’s Italian restaurant a few minutes early. Though, the waitress who seated her gave her some kind of look that She thought might have been pity when she asked for a table for two. Jane huffed and fixed the ruffles in her skirt, though she would have liked to give that waitress a piece of her mind.

It’d taken Jane an hour to pick an outfit. She wasn’t self conscious of her chubby figure, but, well, a date was a date and she wanted to look her best… Even if she didn’t feel all that pretty in what she had on.

She was nervous dang it!

She had good right to be too. Sure, she had been early, but Dirk was late. Every minute after seven was a nail bitingly long eternity. He was exactly nine minutes late.

Dirk slid into the seat across from her looking a bit panicked but he regained himself quickly with a relieved sigh. His creased forehead relaxed and his scowl softened.

“Sorry,” he said and he didn’t say anything more.

“It’s quite alright,” Jane smiled.

Dirk sat stick straight in his seat and refused to meet her gaze.

Jane looked down for a moment, fidgeting a little, but when she looked back up, worry was etched back into Dirk’s face. Jane frowned and averted her eyes.

The waitress returned and took their drink orders before whisking away again and letting another uncomfortable silence fall over the table. Jane hid behind her menu, pretending to busy herself with her dinner choice when in reality she already knew what she was going to pick. Four cheese ravioli. She got it every time.

The waitress was brisk about her return. She brought bread and their drinks and took their orders. She took the menus with her when she left and Jane found herself without an excuse.

Jane shifted in her seat.

Dirk coughed into his hand.

Well, this could certainly be going better.

He must be just as nervous as her, Jane tried to reason. Probably more nervous by the look on his face. He was trying way to hard to look cool, and he was failing. It was coming off as a little obnoxious actually.

“So,” Jane began just as he muttered a quick “Hey.”

“Oh, sorry, what?” Jane asked.

“My bad,” he said hurriedly, speaking over her. He looked away again, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

Jane huffed. She could see she had her work cut out for her.

“Was there a lot of traffic on your way over?” She inquired. Start with neutral questions. This date could be saved yet.

Dirk just sort of nodded, swallowing hard before he spoke. “Yeah. I came from downtown.”

There. She got him talking at least.

“Where abouts downtown?”

“My brothers house,” he replied. Jane thought she’d lost him to a perpetual string of simple responses but after a few moments he asked, “what about you?”

“The suburbs myself,” Jane answered, “I inherited my Poppop’s house after he passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” Dirk muttered.

“Oh don’t be. It was years ago. Besides, he had a good, long life,” Jane assured. “So what do you do when your not saving people from manic mutts?”

Dirk laughed a little. His posture visibly relaxed, loosing tension in his shoulders. “Computer stuff. I like robots and programming. I like to write raps too.”

“Really now?” Jane raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, my rhymes are dope as shit,” he assured, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’d make your ears raw they’re so fresh.”

Jane giggled a little, more as a buffer. Figures, Jane thought, ask him about himself and he won’t shut up.

“Hot plates,” the waitress interjected, swooping in with their food. She looked stressed, carrying food for another table on a large platter. She held it only with one hand and she was struggling. First she served Dirk’s Alfredo, setting it in front of him with a clink of glass on the tabletop. Then, she picked up Jane’s ravioli.

It was like it happened in slow motion. The removal of the plate unbalanced the serving tray. Jane watched it tip and fall, three of the plates clattering to the ground in a heap while a fourth landed right in her lap before she could move.

Pasta sauce was everywhere and her tights scalded. She shot straight up, her back rigid and food falling off of her in glops.

“Ma'am, I am so, so sorry,” the waitress gushed, beyond embarrassed.

“That’s gonna stain,” Dirk muttered.

“Here, let me help you,” the waitress began pulling napkins out of her apron. Jane pushed her hands away before she could make the problem any worse.

“It’s quite,” Jane bit her cheek, “it’s quite alright. I think you’ve done enough.”

The waitress shrunk back.

“Obviously you have to go home and change,” Dirk sighed, standing up too, “but could I get your number or something? Maybe a redo date?”

This date had been a bit of a disaster, hadn’t it?

“Oh well, well I suppose,” Jane huffed, looking down at her ruined skirt, “or well, how would you feel about coming over to my house? For some tea and cookies maybe? Just give me a few minutes.”

That wasn't weird, was it? Jane hoped not.

“Pretentious leaf water is not my thing, but I can definitely go for some cookies,” he grinned. Jane jotted down her address for him and left, climbing into her car, carefully, so as not to get pasta sauce on her steering wheel.

The real struggle was getting back into her house without Bec plowing her down. She practically had to tear him off he was so excited to see her. She tried to use her stern voice like Dirk had instructed, but in the end she just threw one of his toys and escaped upstairs to her room to change cloths. After slapping on a clean pair of pants, Jane journeyed back downstairs with her skirt in hand.

She passed through the kitchen on her way to the laundry room. The teapot was right where she’d left it, but her cookie tin was laying on the floor, empty. Bec entered the room but quickly left it, tail tucked and looking quite guilty. The dog had eaten an entire batch of peanut butter cookies! An entire batch!

Today must be national Give Jane A Hard Time day, because as soon as she entered her laundry room, two things happened simultaneously. The first thing was her doorbell ringing, the second was stepping into a puddle of Bec’s puke.

Jane groaned and threw up her hands dramatically. “I give up!”

She heard the front door open and close.

“Jane?” Dirk called.

“Here!” She shouted, hopping on one foot back to her washing machine. Moments later, Dirk appeared in the doorway.

“Thought maybe I had the wrong house,” he told her, “you're gonna pretreat that, right?”

“No? I wasn’t planning on it,” Jane looked down to her skirt in her hands. Dirk cocked an eyebrow.

“It’ll stain if you don’t.”

She turned to him and gave him what could only be described as  _ the look _ . Her glare could have froze hell over. He recoiled. She threw her skirt in the washer and turned it on. If it stained, it stained. Jane couldn’t be bothered enough to care at the moment. She picked a towel up off of the floor and wiped her foot off.

“So the dog got on my counter and apparently I’m out of cookies. I’ll make us some more, but it’ll take me about twenty minutes,” she sighed, throwing the towel over the dog vomit.

“Could I help?” He asked.

“If you really want to,” she replied, skeptical. He? Wanted to help her bake?

“Sweet. I get to lick the spoon.”

Jane laughed. She laughed harder than she should have for longer than she should have, until her gut hurt and tears welled in the corner of her eyes. He grinned back at her, and it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Jane left the laundry room in favor of the kitchen. Dirk followed behind her, and took ingredients as she handed them down to him out of the cupboards. Jane didn’t want her secret recipe in the hands of just anyone though, so she measured out each ingredient herself.

“Do I really have to mix it by hand? You own a mixer, I can see it, why can’t we use that?” Dirk asked, examining the wooden spoon she’d handed him like it was some sort of rare bird.

“You’ll use it if you want cookies,” Jane said very matter of factly, “everybody knows they taste better when you put work into them.”

“Are you some kind of cookie Puritan?” He jested.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Jane countered, smirking.

One of Dirk’s shoulders raised in a half shrug and he got to mixing the cookie dough. Twelve minutes in the over and the pair had a fresh batch of cookies. Jane drew them out of the oven with care, using a potholder to lift them to the stove top. She already had a cooling rack set out, and she used a spatula to lift them from the baking sheet.

Dirk was at the kitchen island, seated at a bar stool, alternating between teaching Bec how to shake hands and texting on his phone. He was so oblivious. Perfect to prank.

Grinning like a cat, Jane pulled a fake mustache out of a junk drawer nearby and stuck it on top of one of the cookies. She dished it out with two others on a plate and slid it to him quietly.

“Thanks, Crocker.” Dirk grabbed the mustachioed confection without even looking up, and bit into it.

“Shit,” he swore, crossing his eyes to look down.

“Gotcha!” Jane grinned, she shoulders shaking with giggles.

Dirk’s chuckle was light and floaty. He pulled the mustache off and ate the cookie anyway. “Mm, tastes like peanut butter and fake hair.”

“Only the best for first dates.”

“So you heard all about my weird hobbies, tell me about yours,” Dirk requests as Jane pulled out two cans of cola from her fridge and seated herself. Bec, who apparently has not learned his lesson about cookies was at her feet begging. Jane popped the tab on her can before she replied.

“Well, I work at my family business, and I just love mystery novels.”

“You crossed me as a college kinda gal. I figured you’d have a big fancy degree with a big fancy job, not working with granny and aunt Lulu,” Dirk was honest but it wasn’t exactly warranted.

“As a matter of fact,” Jane paused to sip her drink, “I have a degree already. Business management. And I do have a big fancy job. My family owns Betty Crocker.”

Dirk almost spit out his cookie. “No shit?”

“Absolutely none.”

“Damn, I hooked me a keeper,” he grinned, “so wait, why not use a mix for the cookies?”

“Great grandma Betty didn’t mass produce all her recipes. We’ve got to have some secrets,” Jane replied, coy. She batted her eyelashes a few times for good measure.

Dirk leaned back in his chair and opened his soda. “I can see that. Taste that. Whatever.”

The pair talked for a while longer until Dirk finally glanced at the clock and realized how late it was getting. She saw him to the front door, where he turned around to face her once he crossed the threshold, rubbing the back of his neck like some shy anime boy.

“I got like, ten dogs I gotta put to bed. They get cranky without their beauty sleep.”

“I can sympathize,” Jane nodded, still grinning.

A very hopeful look crossed his face and a spark appeared in his eyes. “So, do I get to see you again?”

Jane thought he looked like the dogs he trained. She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Put in your number and I’ll text you.”

“Awesome!” Dirk worked fast and Jane had her phone back in moments. “Send me a text so I have your number.”

“Sure. See you later, Dirk!”

“Later, Crocker!”

Jane shut the door and turned to lean her back on it. She heard his car start and speed off down the road until the roar of his engine faded. Sure, okay, it had been an awkward first date. That was to be expected, Jane thought. She’d text him tomorrow, and depending on his attitude, maybe, just maybe, she’d ask for a second date next Friday.

Jane’s house phone rang then. Jane didn’t even need to look to see who it was when she got up to answer it. “Hi Jade!”

“Hi Jane!” Her cousin’s voice came across the line, “sorry about calling so late. I just wanted to check on Bec! Is he being a good boy?”

Jane thought about telling her all about her dog’s exploits but then decided against it. “Oh sure! He’s been a perfect angel! Listen, if you wanted to leave him here a few extra days, I wouldn't be offended.”


End file.
